


A Leaf for Hand in Hand

by fictionalaspect



Series: Like a California King [3]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Like
Genre: BFFs, Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Love, M/M, Schmoop, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So what is this," Brendon asks, hiding his smile in the glass lip of his beer bottle. He looks out over the assembled crowd in their backyard, laughing and talking and eating and waiting in line for more food from the grill that's been set up underneath their Acacia tree. "Our pre-pre-<i>pre</i> wedding barbecue?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Leaf for Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final installment in this series, and believe it or not, how I had planned to end it all along. I know everyone loves happy polyamory fics, but this isn't a non-happy polyamory fic - just one that respects the deep power of friendship along with the power of romantic love. In the end, I think, everyone in this 'verse gets what they need <3 
> 
> No warnings, except for more social drinking. Title from another Walt Whitman poem. 
> 
> Thank you to [romanticalgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl) for a great beta on both of these stories.

_2012, Santa Monica, California._

"So what is this," Brendon asks, hiding his smile in the glass lip of his beer bottle. He looks out over the assembled crowd in their backyard, laughing and talking and eating and waiting in line for more food from the grill that's been set up underneath their Acacia tree. "Our pre-pre- _pre_ wedding barbecue?"

"The wedding isn't for three weeks," Spencer says, frowning. "This is just a barbecue. Like. Like how people have barbecues in the summer. That kind of barbecue." 

"With catering," Brendon says dubiously. "And a party planner's help. And invitations. And half of the wedding guests already here."

"I just kind of mentioned it," Spencer says, waving his hand. "It's not my fault - Alana is like. She's. Well, you know what she's like." 

"I do," Brendon agrees, because their wedding planner is awesome and also sort of terrifying. She's over near the drinks station, watching everything with narrowed eyes, like she's waiting for something to go wrong and by god, she will be there to fix that shit when it does. When she notices Brendon and Spencer watching, she immediately pastes on a smile and waves. 

"I think Alana missed her calling," Brendon says, leaning against the porch railing. "She should have been a Marine, not a wedding planner." 

"I think it calls for the same skill set," Spencer says. "Well. Maybe except for the color matching." 

"I'm just happy I don't have to do anything," Brendon says, and he is. It's not that he doesn't love his friends and family, but there's something awesome about showing up to a barbecue in his own backyard and having no responsibilities except to hang out, talk to people, drink, eat, and maybe sneak off later to have a joint or two with Ryan and Shane. 

"Me too," Spencer says, bumping his shoulder against Brendon's. The ring on his finger catches the sunlight for a moment, and Brendon feels something weightless rise up in his chest, soft and buoyant. 

Spencer asked him to marry him. 

"You asked me to marry you," Brendon says, for no reason other than he likes saying it out loud so he can remind himself it's true. The rings they have right now are small, thin and matching, almost unnoticeable. The ones they've picked out are thicker, platinum instead of white gold. Brendon doesn't know if he'll wear one, or both of them. He hasn't decided yet. But honestly, if idle musings about his wedding ring are his biggest concerns right now, he thinks he's doing awesome in the whole groom department. 

"I did," Spencer agrees. He lets one hand fall to the small of Brendon's back. "And you said yes." 

"Of course I said yes," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. He still thinks it's stupid that Spencer was as nervous about it as he apparently was. They've been together for seven years, over six continents, through one band breakup, one band reformation, and losing Ryan. Brendon feels like it was pretty obvious he's been in it for the long haul. 

"Honestly," Spencer says. "I think Ryan might be more nervous than we are." Brendon peers across the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Ryan's short new haircut. He finally finds him near the dessert table, reclining in a wooden lawn chair with Z nestled into his side. They're both laughing about something, Z practically dropping her drink and falling out of the chair. 

"He doesn't look that nervous right now," Brendon says.

"Well, yeah," Spencer says. "Z's here. You know he's always better when she's around. But I mean in general. He's totally freaked about having to give a speech. He freaked out to me for like two hours yesterday, only he was talking about Miles Davis. But it was totally about the wedding."

"I will never understand your friendship until the day I die," Brendon says,

"It was a metaphor," Spencer says. "Ryan's bad at feelings." 

"I realize that," Brendon says. "I'm just not good at interpreting Miles Davis in relation to feelings."

"It's an acquired skill," Spencer says airly, flipping his hair over one shoulder. Brendon laughs. 

"Do you think it's weird that we asked him?" Brendon says, raising his beer for another sip. "Or like. Do you think that _he_ thinks it's weird that we asked him?"

"I think I honestly have no idea what Ryan's thinking unless he starts talking about music as a metaphor for his weird brainspace," Spencer says, but Brendon knows that's a lie. He kicks Spencer lightly in the calf with his flip-flop until Spencer gives in and sighs. "Okay, fine. Usually I kind of know what he's thinking. _I_ think it was the right choice," he says. "And he knows that, and we know that, and I think he was honored that we asked him, after...well, everything. But all that being said, it's probably slightly weird." 

"Most people don't ask their ex-boyfriend to be their best man," Brendon muses. He's possibly a little drunk. Alana's signature cocktails are intense. He has no idea what's in them, but they're fruity and they taste like watermelon and mint and he's already had three, and now his beer is hitting him pretty hard. 

"Most people don't have a communal ex-boyfriend that's also their ex-bandmate that's also their best friend that's also their...I don't fucking know," Spencer says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. It's long again. Brendon likes it when he grows it out. Spencer rocks the mountain main look well. "Most people don't have a Ryan. But we do." 

"Yeah," Brendon says. He can feel himself smiling fondly as he watches Ryan and Z whispering to one another. He's glad Ryan's found someone who gets him. He's glad that Ryan's found someone who doesn't...want to change him, or fix him, or think that he should be anything other than what he is. He knows that Ryan and Z's relationship is fluid and that's--Brendon's pretty sure that's exactly what Ryan and Z both need. 

Sometimes he misses Ryan, and sometime he misses the sex, but so much has passed between now and then that mostly it just hurts like an old ache, dull and slightly comforting. There's always a piece of him that will be in love with Ryan, and he knows the same is true for Spencer. It's just that that piece is much smaller now, and the piece that loves Ryan as a friend is much larger. And the piece that loves Spencer is--well. It's the entire rest of the puzzle, if Brendon is going to continue his dumb, drunken metaphor. 

"What are you thinking about?" Spencer says. "You got quiet all of a sudden."

"Uh," Brendon says. "Puzzle pieces?"

"Like. Metaphorical puzzle pieces? Or...actual puzzle pieces?"

"I really want to lie to you right now and say actual puzzle pieces because it's way funnier and also makes me sound weirder," Brendon laughs. "But no. Metaphorical puzzle pieces. I'm just--I don't know, I'm drunk, it was a dumb metaphor in my head." 

"As long as I'm one of them," Spencer says.

"You're like 70% of the puzzle," Brendon says honestly. "75%. At least. Maybe 80%. I don't know, I can't remember who else I gave puzzle pieces to. Like I think Shane is in there, and my family gets one, and Ryan gets two, because it's complicated, but one is really big and the other is really small--"

Spencer kisses him softly to shut him up, one hand on his jaw, cradling his face

"Okay," Spencer says. "You can stop talking now. Tell me later when we're both less drunk."

"It was totally a metaphor about how I love you and shit," Brendon says. "And like, I love Ryan, but not the same way, and I don't even--how did we start talking about this?"

"Best man," Spencer says. 

"Oh, right," Brendon says. "Well. Shane's freaking the fuck out as well. Maybe they should go freak out together." 

"That's not a bad idea," Spencer says. "Except you know they'll just get high and watch weird movies and then talk about the movies while getting more high." 

"I....yeah." Brendon says. "That will probably happen. Agreed. But _eventually_ they might come up with something to say at the wedding." 

"I really don't want Ryan's speech to be a metaphor about how our relationship relates to _Citizen Kane_ ," Spencer says. "Or _Rosemary's Baby_. Or _On the Waterfront_. Or--"

"Maybe we should give them a list," Brendon says. "A list of the only acceptable movies they're allowed to watch for the next three weeks. And we should make them all romantic comedies."

"Their tiny hipster hearts would shrivel into a thousand pieces," Spencer says with a grin. "Let's do it." 

"Word," Brendon says, clinking his beer with Spencer's. They both finish theirs off, and then set them down, a little wobbly. 

"So," Brendon says. "Time to mingle with our pre-pre- _pre_ wedding barbecue guests? Have we had enough deep and meaningful alone time up here?"

"Baby, I'll show you deep and meaningful later on," Spencer says, smirking and dropping his voice into his lowest register. "But uh, yeah. We should probably like. Host." 

"Kiss me first," Brendon says, because even seven years in, he never gets tired of saying that and having Spencer actually _do_ it. He has the hottest husband ever. Or fiancee. Whatever. Brendon gets to kiss the hottest guy he knows all the time. That is pretty much his definition of 'living the good life' right there. 

"Greedy," Spencer mumbles, but he kisses Brendon again on their way down the porch stairs, a big, dramatic kiss that has everyone clapping and cheering and Brendon's back cracking as Spencer bends him over without warning. 

"Oh my god," Brendon says, when they stand back up. "Seriously, I am too old for that, I think I just broke a rib." 

"You're fine," Spencer says. "You have like, sixteen. Eighteen. Twelve. You have more than you need. Come say hi to Linda and Sarah with me."

"If you say so," Brendon says, linking his fingers with Spencer and following him into the crowd. Ryan's on the way to Linda and Sarah though, all the way on the other side of the yard, so they pause to say hi. 

"Married!" Z says, as soon as she sees them, raising her glass in a toast and laughing. "You're getting married!" 

"Z is really excited for you guys," Ryan says, gently tugging her hand down. "Also, what did you put in those cocktails?" 

"Ask Alana," Brendon says, kissing Ryan on the cheek. He remembers the first time it happened, almost a year ago--he leaned in without thinking to say goodbye, after just having done the same to Z. Ryan's eyes had softened and he'd done the same, and then he'd left Brendon's condo with a small smile on his face. 

They've done it ever since, and even Spencer's picked up the habit. It makes Brendon feel like somehow things have come full circle, like they've all grown up and moved on but they'll never quite leave that part of themselves behind. Their shared history, almost hidden now beneath Ryan's wrist tattoos and Spencer's watch, but still visible on Brendon's bare wrist. 

"They're really good," Ryan says, looking critically and a bit unsteadily at his empty glass. "But I think I left my legs somewhere and I don't know how to get another one." 

"I have legs," Z says. She's wearing a very, very short dress, because it's a day that ends in y. 

"Yes," Ryan agrees approvingly. "Yes. Yes you do." 

"Please don't have sex at the party," Spencer says, making a pained face, and everyone laughs. 

"I never have sex at parties," Z says, giving Spencer an impish look. "I have sex _after_ the party. And not on lawn chairs, thank you very much." 

"This is all I'm asking," Spencer says. "We have to return those." Ryan reaches over and pinches him behind the knee, in that spot that he knows Spencer hates. 

"I'm your best man," Ryan says. "I'm not having sex on your rented lawn chairs." 

"Spencer's freaking out," Brendon confides, in a stage whisper. "Don't worry about him." 

"I am not---Ryan's the one freaking out!" Spencer says, frowning and reaching out for whatever is being passed around on trays by the caterers, which turns out to be one of those weird pudding shots. He stares at it with a raised eyebrow, and then down the whole thing. 

"That was way less dramatic than a tequila shot," Brendon tells him solemnly. "You have chocolate on your face. Here, let me--" He reaches out for a napkin and then wipes it off. Behind him, he can hear both Ryan and Z giggling. He tosses the napkin in their direction. 

"So," Brendon says, turning back to them. "Written your speech yet?" 

"No," Ryan says. "But I have ideas. And slides. I have those too. Remember slide projectors? Spence, your mom has the most amazing shit in her attic, seriously, like she found me all this stuff." 

"I'm going to have to murder you before the wedding, aren't I?"

"During," Z suggests, grabbing a pudding shot of her own and then finding a spoon from somewhere to actually eat it the way it's supposed to be eaten. "During is way more dramatic." 

"No naked baby pictures," Brendon says sternly, because he's made Shane swear to the same thing. "And also no metaphors about death or dying or growing old or...actually whatever, I think I'm too drunk for this. We'll send you a list. We need you to hang out with Shane for a while so you guys can plan." 

"Cool," Ryan agrees, bobbing his head. "Yeah. Shane's awesome. That's cool." 

"Good," Spencer says. He sighs, shaking his head. 

"Why is it that I still always want to murder you and hug you at the same time?" he asks Ryan, and the universe at large.

"I think that's called friendship," Brendon says. He catches Z's eye, where she's looking fondly at both of them. 

"I think that's called us," Ryan says, and reaches over so he can link his fingers with Spencer's. "Are you backing out now, Spencer Smith the Fifth?" 

"Hell no," Spencer says, brushing his fingers against Brendon's, on the other side. Brendon leans his head on Spencer's shoulder. "You know I'm always in. Forever."


End file.
